A Sick Twist of Fate
by MostTulip
Summary: The King in the North is dead, but his Queen still lives. And now she travels farther North than she ever planned to go to find the new King.
1. We Can't Always Get What We Want

**Uses elements from Jeyne Westerling (book) theory and the Grand Northern Conspiracy.**

* * *

There was blood, on her hands, on her dress. It was everywhere. But Talisa barely noticed. All she could see was the body lying on the ground. Crossbow bolts were sticking out of his chest.

"Robb," she sobbed. As if he could hear her voice in whatever oblivion he had been, he opened his eyes.

"Robb," she said again, little more than a whisper. His pain-filled eyes met hers and he mouthed a word. _Go. _Slowly, he stood up, never taking his eyes off her.

"The King in the North arises," Walder Frey crooned from the dias.

"Go," Robb whispered to her. A hand held her shoulder. Twisting her head around to see, she found herself looking into the face of the Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.

"Your Grace, we need to leave."

"Lord Walder. Lord Walder, enough! Let it end. Please, he is my son. My _first _son. Let him go and I swear that we will forget this." Talisa had not heard Catelyn Stark move, had not seen her bring a knife to the throat of Walder Frey's wife.

"I swear it by the Old gods and new. We will take no vengence." Lady Stark continued to speak. But she might as well have been trying to move a mountain. It was obvious that Lord Walder had no intention of letting Robb go.

"You already swore my one oath right here in my castle. You swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!"_ Oh Robb, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault._

"Take me for your hostage, but let Robb go." Lady Catelyn had turned to where her son was still standing, staring at her. "Robb, take Talisa. Take her and walk out. Please. Please!"

Lady Stark was crying now. And she wasn't the only one. Talisa could feel the tears seeping from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. _Robb, no. I can't leave you. Please don't make me._

"And why would I let him do that?" Lord Walder asked slowly. Lady Stark turned back to him, and suddenly the tears and grief were gone, replaced by hard determination.

"Go North," Robb said quietly to her. His voice was hoarse. _For our son. For me, _his eyes seemed to say.

At any other time, she would have wondered why they would go North, but this wasn't any other time. Their army was getting massacred. Her husband was barely standing, and some part of her knew, deep down, that Robb would not leave this castle alive.

"On my honor as a Tully"

The Blackfish was pulling her away now.

"On my honor as a Stark"

They were crawling, staying low to avoid the crossbows.

"Let him go, or I will cut your wife's throat."

The last she saw of Robb was of him smiling at her, his face full of love and affection, before he faced Lord Walder.

"Mother," he slurred.

Talisa heard the heavy footsteps a moment before she heard, "The Lannisters send their regards." There was the sound of a blade cutting through flesh, and a body dropping. Then she knew no more.

* * *

"Why are we going North?"

They had been traveling for a week now. During their escape from the Twins, Ser Brynden had gathered a few other men. There were ten of them now. This was the first time she had spoken except to demand to be taken back, to be with Robb.

The Blackfish sighed, and he looked frustrated and angry for a second before composing his features. "You are the Queen, Your Grace. But if we are to win this war, the North needs a King. One who can rally the lords and men, one who can fight by their side. Your son - if it even is a son - will not be able to do that for many years. We are going North to the heir King Robb named, should he ever die before you have a son that is of age."

"His brothers are dead, his sisters are captives of the Lannisters. Who else could he trust to take his place as King and protect his family?" _There is no one else. I should have stayed Robb. I'm sorry, my love._

"Not all his brothers are dead," Ser Brynden said stiffly. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she gazed up from where she had been staring into the fire to her great-uncle's face.

"Before we got to the Twins, Robb called some of his lords - myself included - to bear witness to the creation of his will and to sign it. He gave false copies to Maege Mormont and Galbert Glover and sent them to find Greywater Watch."

"Ser Brynden," she interrupted anything else he was about to say. "Who is the heir that my husband named."

A dark look crossed his face before he said, "Jon Snow, now Jon Stark. We're going North to the Wall. Upon Robb's death, his half-brother would be legitimized and his vows to the Night's Watch would be annulled. He is the King of the North until your son is born."

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**A/N: If you would like me to continue this, let me know. :)**


	2. Wounds I Can't Heal

**A Wound I Can't Heal**

"Have you ever met Jon Snow?" Talisa asked one of the northerners traveling with them. Terin, that was his name. He was barely ten years older than her, and yet, when he met her gaze, his eyes made him appear thirty years older than her. The death of one's King at a wedding was not something that was taken lightly. Especially by those who felt they have done more to save him.

"Once, I think. I have served the Umbers for nearly fifteen years. Through my years of service, I became a close friend to my liege lord, and would usually travel with the Greatjon. Some of the men used to say I was his sworn shield. But we had visited Winterfell once, before the war. There was a big feast in welcome. Mind you, nothing as big as _that _feast." A dark glint came into his eyes. He shook his head and continued. "I had gone outside for a breath of fresh air, trying to clear the wine from my head. There had been a boy out there, whacking at a practice dummy. He would have only seen twelve name-days. At first, I wondered why he was out there, in the cold, when there was a feast inside, with food and wine and women a-plenty. I must have made some sound, because he froze and turned around to see who I was. And when I stared into that face - even though he looked nothing like his father - I just _knew. _I knew that I was staring at Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son."

A gust of cool wind had her teeth chattering. She wrapped her arms tighter around her body and edged closer to the fire. None of them had thought to grab extra cloaks or blankets in their haste to escape the Twins. Not for the first time, she wished that Robb was with her. They'd always kept each other warm, whether it be through just sleeping beside one another or more sexual activitues. And she once again felt the tears that fell from her eyes and onto the ground before her.

_Robb is gone. _It hurt. Even after nearly two weeks, the realization was more painful than anything Talisa had ever felt in her life. Robb - her one love, the father of her child, the King that had never once lost a battle - was dead and she had not died with him. The only thing that kept her alive anymore was the baby growing inside her belly and the hope that one day, her child's father would be avenged. And right now, that hope lay north.

The Blackfish had said that they had just crossed into the North three days ago. She did not find it hard to believe. Already, the temperature was much cooler than it had been some miles back. From what the northerners had told her, it was only going to get colder where they were going.

"There's no place as cold as the fucking Wall," one of the men had grumbled. "It always snows. The cold seeps into your bones and steals whatever warmth there was in the first place."

He had turned to her, and chuckled as he saw her trying to get nearer to the fire without burning herself. "If this is cold to you, you're not going to survive the Wall. It will be hell."

_Like you know anything of hell. _Everyday was a new hell. It wasn't just the constant riding, the running, the hiding, the fear. It wasn't just the lack of food, the cooling days and nights. Talisa had to live with the fact that her husband was dead, murdered by his own men. And it was all her fault.

If she had just stopped them, had stopped it all from happening . . . maybe then Robb would have lived. Would have married the sweet Frey girl (if any Freys could be called that) and returned to Winterfell. Would have reunited his family and found justice for his father. Would have made a family of his own. She couldn't truly regret her love for him, the nights they had spent in each other's arms. But she could regret the danger that she had put all their lives in.

Months ago, she would have been repulsed by the idea of becoming a King's whore. But now, she would give anything to have taken that path. She would have been content with Robb's love that way. He would have lived that way.

"Your Grace?" The concerned voice and warm hand on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts. Ser Brynden was staring down at her. The fire cast shadows across his face and made him look even more fierce than before. She realized that she had been so lost in her mind that she'd failed to respond to anyone for some minutes.

"I-I'm fine," she whispers, and in her head says _as fine as you can be when everything you love is gone. _But she doesn't say that. It would be unfair to Ser Brynden to do that. He was already giving up so much for her. He could have gone back to Riverrun and organized the remains of the army into something useful, or even stayed at the Twins to fight for his King and niece. Instead, he was riding North with his pregnant Queen, to find the bastard that had brought so much insult upon his most beloved niece and to give him a crown in place of his great-nephew. No, he was giving her too much already for her to snap at him.

Satisfied, the Blackfish nodded. He turned so as to address the entire group. "We leave at first light."

Talisa repressed a groan. Even when riding with Robb and his army, they'd never spent so little time resting and so much time traveling, with so little food and comfort. Especially in this weather.

That was something else that bothered her. The weather. Robb would have welcomed the cold, loved it. He grew up in the cold and snow of the North. It was home to him. She had been born and raised in Volantis, where the sun always shined. She'd never seen snow before in her life. It had made her feel almost ashamed to know that the place that would soon be her home would only remind her how much of an outsider she was.

And that brought on another thought. Was that how Jon Snow had felt? Why he left for the Wall? Was he as much an outsider as her? Talisa was certain that Robb would have willingly given his half-brother the Stark name, a holdfast of his own, a place by his side. Yet the bastard had chosen the Wall. For a minute, she wondered if it was because he had done something wrong. Most men that were sent to the Wall were criminals. Had Jon Snow tried to do something terrible? Thoughts and images of a shadow of man (for she did not know Jon Snow's face) attempting to kill Robb filled her head.

Shaking her head, she tried to force those thoughts away. If Jon Snow had tried to hurt Robb, Eddard Stark would have executed him. No, that was not his reason for the Night's Watch. But the mystery remained. Why would a bastard (as unfair a position as that was) who was raised with the highborn children of a lord and given every comfort choose to go somewhere so cold and soulless?

Somewhere, off in the distance, a wolf howled. _Winter is coming, _she thought as she laid down to rest, _but it will be Jon Snow that I face it with, not Robb._


	3. Hunger For What You Cannot Have

**In order for this to work, assume that when Arya and the Hound left the Twins, they headed a few miles North before deciding to go to the Eyrie.**

* * *

**Hunger For What You Cannot Have**

_"I love you," he whispered against her skin. He brushed his lips up her neck as he said this, laying small kisses to her jawline. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on the bulge of her stomach._

_"I love you, too," she answered him, and he pressed his mouth against hers. It was warm and hot and his tongue entered her mouth. His other hand stroked her cheek, a loving gesture._

_When they broke apart, he began kissing down her body. He kissed her neck, her chest, her breasts, and down to her stomach. There, he rested his head against their growing child, as if he was listening for a little heartbeat._

_She tangled her hands in his hair, gently tugging to signify she wanted to kiss him again. He hummed in amusement, refusing to budge._

_"You know it will be a few months before they start to do anything." He laughed softly, and only hummed in response. "I bet they will be strong, just like their father. You'll be able to feel their kick through armor. And you'll hear their heartbeat a mile away."_

_He lifted his face, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. A lazy smile crossed his face. "And they will be as beautiful as their mother. If it's a girl, she'll be the beauty of the North, second only to the Queen. If it's a boy, he'll have every woman in all of Westeros begging to be his wife."_

_"Is that what you think? You've gotten my hopes up now. You'd better be right." As she said this, he crawled up her body, until their lips were crashing against each other once more._

_He continued to whisper "I love you," as she wrapped her legs around his waist and their kiss became so much more passionate._

* * *

She could still feel his lips when she woke up. It was as if he was really there. And it hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. A thousand stabs to the heart would not have brought her so much pain as this.

Talisa groaned, stretching the stiff muscles of her arms. Her entire body was stiff and sore from their time in the saddle and sleeping on the ground. She wondered if it was good for the baby, if it would damage her child in any way. _I suppose it is a necessary risk, _she thought to herself. _My child needs a father and the North needs a king if it is to avenge the Starks._

The idea only brought tears to her eyes. Her child would never know their real father. Jon Stark would be there for their entire childhood, would be there when they grew up and had children of their own. But Robb wouldn't. Jon would hold their child, not Robb. Jon would teach them to ride, not Robb. Jon would be their father, not Robb.

In her brooding thoughts, she hadn't noticed the figure creeping up on her from behind her back. Her scream was muffled as a hand clamped down on her mouth. Strong arms held her pinned to the ground, restricting any and all movement. As fear coursed through her, she thought how ironic it was that it would all end before they ever reached the Wall. They'd had so much hope and now she would die and be with Robb.

"Your Grace, do not make a sound." Her fear was driven away at that voice. It was Ser Brynden Tully.

He continued to whisper to her. "There are Frey men nearby. They are searching for us. For _you._" She could have cried. How did they find them so fast?

"We have to go back. We won't be able to get past them without being caught." His hand left her mouth. Talisa made no sound, knowing any noise could get them killed.

They laid there, side by side, for what felt like an hour. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, and she had to calm her breathing several times. After a little while, the Blackfish embraced her, pulling her against his chest in an attempt to give her comfort.

Robb would have given her the most comfort, would have made her feel brave and fearless and capable of anything. But Robb wasn't there. So she had to settle against Ser Brynden and take whatever comfort from him that she could. She closed her eyes, trying to think of her husband.

The Blackfish shook her shoulder gently, murmuring "they're gone, Your Grace." She took his hand when he offered it, helping her to her feet. They had found a small clearing in the trees, hidden from view and hard to find. The men had almost given up hope two days ago when one scout found it. They needed a place to rest in as much peace as there could be and their supplies were running low.

The other men had gathered in a small circle, speaking softly among themselves when Talisa and the Blackfish joined them.

"We have to go back," he repeated, anger evident in his tone of voice. Nowhere except the Wall was safe, but going back was perhaps the most dangerous option. As it were, though, going back might be the only way they could survive. There were enemies very close ahead, and enemies a ways off behind.

"We need someplace to go. Someplace to lay low until these men leave and we can continue North," he said. The others nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. They knew the risks as well.

Terin spoke up. "We passed an inn somewhere behind us. Perhaps that could work." He turned to look at her, though his words were still directed at Ser Brynden. "Few have seen Queen Talisa. As long as we don't attract too much attention, we should be able to remain there."

The Blackfish nodded. "Very well. Hopefully we can restock in supplies and find fresh horses." Their horses were weak and tired.

"We could try for the Eyrie after that," a man named Cal said. "King Robb's aunt is the lady there. She could give us refuge . . ." The Blackfish was already shaking his head.

"No. The Eyrie took no part in the war. They will not offer us shelter or safety."

"But Lady Lysa-" Terin began. He was cut off by Ser Brynden.

"Lysa is not the woman she once was. She is not in her right mind. We will not find safety there. We need to stay at the inn for as long as is necessary, then get to the Wall. After that- after that the decision of our next move will be in the hands of Jon Stark." He left out the part where they would reveal Robb's will and Talisa would marry her good-brother.

Cal and Terin looked down, embarrassed by their failed idea. Talisa smiled at them, trying to make them feel better about themselves, although it probably appeared as more of a grimace. There wasn't much for her to smile about these days.

Ser Brynden nodded, satisfied with their new plan. "Get the horses ready. We're leaving for that inn at midday."

The men stood up, brushing themselves off. They all wandered off in different directions, preparing their supplies for the ride. Talisa remained where she sat, suddenly feeling nausea. It was probably just the morning sickness, which would pass soon.

"We should find you a handmaiden," a voice said from behind her. She turned around to see Harod, one of the more silent northerners. He had a kind face, a young face, but he was experienced from what Ser Brynden had told her.

She gave a soft laugh. "I don't think many girls want to serve the supposedly dead traitor queen of the North. And besides, I have no need of one."

"You do." He came to stand right beside her, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "As the child grows larger, you will get sicker and exhausted quicker and . . . well, you know. You should have someone to help you with that.

"All of us," he gestured to the other men, "are here to protect you. None of us know anything about delivering a baby, and I doubt there's anyone on the Wall who does. Assuming we reach the Wall before you give birth. You need someone to serve you and help you."

He was so determined, Talisa felt touched. The men were friendly, but none had shown this amount of kindness to her. She nodded. "I'll see about it." He beamed, pleased at being taken seriously, and began walking away.

"Harod!" she called to him. He turned back. "Thank you, for caring this much."

If anything, his smile grew wider. And Talisa felt she was moving along the first steps of a friendship.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize if the dream is just completely horrible and mushy. I'm not good at writing romance.**


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